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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26343493">Bad Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridot_tea91/pseuds/peridot_tea91'>peridot_tea91</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of bad hunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26343493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridot_tea91/pseuds/peridot_tea91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean return from a hunt gone wrong. Sometimes it’s okay to let someone see you hurt.  My submission for the Supernatural Summer Shut-In Challenge on Tumblr. My prompt was “I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me. Even when things get hard, especially when things get hard, you’re the one I want in my corner.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/Undisclosed, Dean Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Peridot's Tumblr Challenge Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bad Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a bad hunt.  They couldn’t save the people the vamps were holding hostage; too many had been either turned or drained of their blood right before the hunters got there.  The entire ride back to the bunker had been silent, both Sam and Dean feeling the weight of the lives that were lost.  As soon as Dean parked Baby in the garage, Sam grabbed his bags and locked himself away in his room for the night.  Dean stayed sitting in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, feeling the kind of numbness that only creeps in after a particularly rough hunt.  Eventually, however, he stiffly climbed out of the car, grabbed his bag, and headed off to the library.</p><p>She had stayed behind this hunt-- sinus infection had made it too dangerous to risk her joining the boys this time.  However, she’d been feeling better as of late and was patiently awaiting the return of Sam and Dean.  She didn’t know how the hunt had gone, but the moment Dean stepped into the library, she could see it written all over his face.  Tired eyes, slouched shoulders, stiff movement, and furrowed brows said more than enough.</p><p>Dean dropped his bag on the table with a heavy thump and collapsed into a nearby chair.  He didn’t even greet her as he came in, simply sighing with the weight of guilt that had been drowning him.  She watched Dean for a moment, studying the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his eyes closed, and head tipped back.  She knew nothing she could say would help, that guilt was a permanent resident between him and Sam, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.</p><p>Quietly, she slipped from her chair and went over to the cart, preparing Dean a glass of whiskey that would be only the first of many he would have that evening.  She watched him sadly as she turned back to him at the table, her heart aching at the thought of the burdens he carried.  Sometimes, not everyone could be saved; that was a sad reality of the lives they led, as hunters.  That knowledge never seemed to make the losses easier, however.</p><p>Setting the tumbler on the table in front of Dean with a soft thump, she contemplated her next move.  Reaching out, she gently brushed her fingertips through the front of Dean's hair.  Immediately, Dean grabbed her wrist, opened his eyes, and stared at her.  There was something behind the green orbs she loved so much, a simultaneous withdrawal and plea for comfort.  There had always been <em>something</em> between the two hunters-- her and Dean had tap-danced around each other for years.  Lingering stares, the brush of fingertips, taking extra care when mending wounds, and late-night conversations always held the lingering promise of maybe something more, but neither hunter would act on it.  Dean saw himself as unlovable and a danger to anyone he ever cared for.  She, on the other hand, saw Dean as someone completely out of her league, the hero who deserved the world.</p><p>Cautiously, she reached forward again and continued to lightly stroke his hair away, Dean’s grip on her wrist loosening as he gave in to the tender action.  She could see his body slowly decompress from the hunt as she continued her ministrations.  Dean’s eyes had closed once more, and he ran his hand slowly up and down her arm.  Oh, how she wished she could free him of the burdens he carried, but Dean was, after all, a hunter, and a Winchester.  The ghosts of hunts gone wrong would forever haunt him until the day he died.</p><p>“I know that nothing I say will make you feel better.  But when you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen to whatever you need to say.  Some days, the good days, we’re able to save everyone.  But the bad days, we are too late, and it feels like their blood is on our hands,” she said softly as she continued to rake her fingers through Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly.</p><p>Dean slowly opened his eyes, watching her as she lovingly looked down at him.  His eyes shone with the weight that comes with years of hunting and having grown up in the life.  It was a terrible responsibility to carry alone, and alone Dean did carry it, refusing to let Sam or anyone else see that other side of him-- his weak side.  Dean had to be strong for everyone around him, and her heart ached for the weary hunter.</p><p>“I want you to know,” she continued, using the back of her other hand to tenderly brush the side of Dean’s head, “that at the end of the day, no matter what gets thrown our way, <strong>I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me. Even when things get hard, especially when things get hard, you’re the one I want in my corner.</strong>”</p><p>Dean silently stared at her a moment, the cogs of his brain mulling over her declaration.  Pulling himself upright in the chair, Dean reached out and placed his hand on her hips.  Squeezing gently, he savored the soft feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips, using it to ground himself.  Dean pulled her slightly and guided her forward until she straddled his lap.  Dean watched as he slowly ran his hands up to the curvature of her waist, saying nothing as he let the warmth of her skin soothe him.</p><p>She watched quietly as Dean touched her, her heartbeat thumping in her chest as they embarked on a new level of tender intimacy between them.  Eventually, Dean slid his hands around to her back and pulled her forward, burying his face into her chest and letting walls collapse.  She wrapped her arms around Dean’s head and held him.  The hair at the crown of his head was surprisingly soft against her cheek.  Dean tightened his grip on her and held on for dear life, silently pouring the burdens of the latest hunt into her.  No other words were spoken between them as they embraced each other, Dean breathing heavily into her skin, and she lovingly stroked his hair.</p><p>Sometimes, what we need most is someone to just hold onto.</p>
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